Two Kings in Warcraft
by juggernaut715
Summary: The Red King, Mikoto Suoh, wakes up in Azeroth. Shortly after, he is joined by Munkata Reisi, the Blue king. Not sure where it's going to go, but I like what I've written so far, and hopefully you will too. Please, review, and thank you. Ratings might change depending on what I put in later.
1. Chapter 1

Mikoto felt the sword pierce his gut. Felt his blood splatter, his lips speak his final words, and then his heart stop. Then he woke up.

He opened his eyes and found gray cobbled stone in front of him, no, beneath him. He spat out the bad taste in his mouth, probably coming from being on the ground, and pushed himself up. Buildings that looked centuries old in architecture stood around him, and he guessed he was in a back alley of sorts. He felt his chest with his palm, hand slowly dragging down as he examined himself. Same clothes as when he was stabbed…but no blood, and no wound, he learned upon pulling his shirt up to examine his bare skin.

What the hell had happened?

Running his fingers through his hair Mikoto sighed and stood up, then looked up. He tugged on the King within himself and let his lips curl upwards at the familiar sight of the Sword of Damocles half a mile above him. And it was in mint condition, too; his Weismann level had reset, somehow. No red lightning sprattling about, nothing crumbling or cracking or falling off, it was like it was brand new. The red flames on his shoulders dissipated, and the sword disappeared. He recognized shouts outside the alleyway, and heard the words 'Sword' and 'Sky' and 'big.' He grumbled for a moment before making judgment and took off at a jog out of the back end of the alleyway.

He could reveal his Crown when he knew where he was.

Upon exiting the alleyway he was assaulted with sights, sounds and smells he'd never imagined-roasted pork, armor polish, anvil sparks, people in regalia like a 14th century Knight, and people who _definitely_ weren't human. He felt his mouth fell open, and was craving for a cigarette. No one seemed to notice him, though, like he was just another guy on the street. Of course, his clothes were quite a bit different from everyone else's, but that seemed acceptable enough that no one stared. His mind filled with questions that he had no answers to; Why does that woman have pointy ears? Is that a midget? What the _fuck_ is that guy riding? He resigned himself to reach into his pocket and pull out a pack of cigarettes.

Taking bold steps down the side of the road out of everyone's path he tapped the pack with one hand and plucked a cigarette out, bringing it to his lips before putting the pack back in his pocket. With a flick of his thumb it was lit and he felt comforting nicotine soothe his system. He put the butts of his hands to his forehead, gently massaging his aching temples, and let out a long stream of smoke before lowering them. Casting his eyes around he found that there were a whole lot of people dressed the same way, all in silver armor wearing clothes on their cuirass with a…lion on them. He twitched. He'd been called a grumpy, grouchy, irritable lion before, and it was like fate was mocking him by making that particular creature the insignia of wherever he'd ended up.

He coughed, clearing his throat, and approached one of the people in matching armor. "'Scuse me." The man turned to him, tilting his head slightly to look down. Mikoto was six feet, this guy must've been 6'2.

"Require something?" The formal tone and straightforwardness made the cigarette in Mikoto's mouth droop.

"Yeah." With a deep, husky voice that was akin to snarling or a growl Mikoto had a feel to his words that demanded people pay attention, no matter how soft he spoke. "Where am I?"

"You're in the Trade District. Why, looking for some place in particular? I can-"

"No, no." Mikoto shook his head and the man let out a disgruntled grunt of disapproval. Obviously, he wasn't used to having his words curtailed. "I mean, what city is this?" _And why the hell does that guy have tentacles and a tail and __**hooves**__ for cryin' out loud. _ He wanted to ask, but felt this question held more pertinence.

"What _city?_" The man sounded shocked. He tossed his head back and laughed, a hearty bellow echoing around the area. He was still chuckling when he looked back at Mikoto, who wasn't feeling all that amused. "You're in Stormwind, Capital city of the Kingdom of Stormwind." A bit repetitive, but an answer nonetheless. And one that made Mikoto's head spin.

He glanced around at all the people with swords and staves and axes and wearing all these fancy clothes that looked like they were from the 14th century. And everything clicked.

"I'm not in Japan anymore, am I?"

"What's that?" Mikoto let out a low sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep drag and let out smoke in a thick cloud. The man in front of him was deterred, waving a gauntlet to disperse the aroma and smoke. "Smoke your pipe elsewhere if you're done talking to me." Mikoto took his advice, turning and walking away. He knew something was off about these buildings, the cobbled streets; he must have traveled back in time, or something. That didn't explain the _wolfman_ he bumped into when caught up in his thoughts.

"Oh, a human…" it growled, its lips barely managing to form the words. He was in solid black armor and had a great big mace strapped to his back. Mikoto made no sign of moving, so they continued staring at each other. It leaned forward and brought its snout an inch from Mikoto's nose. The thing was massive, must have been three hundred pounds and six and a half feet tall. "Never seen a Worgen before?" It asked, snarling either intentionally or unintentionally, Mikoto couldn't tell. The Red King's cigarette drooped once again. It was nearly finished, anyways, so he let it fall from his lips to the ground, and gently put the sparks out with his foot.

"Worgen, huh…" He rumbled, staring the wolfman directly in the eyes. It gave a loud sniff, its snout curling for a moment as it did so.

"Not afraid?" Mikoto didn't budge, instead mocking the sniff with one of his own.

"You smell terrible. Take a bath." An eerie silence became known to them both from their surroundings; a majority of the people in the street were watching them. It was uncommon for someone to stand ground against a Worgen, much less talk back and make fun of. The man with startlingly Red hair didn't seem to care one way or the other, and the Worgen…burst out laughing. He stood up straight, snout pointing towards the sky, and a hacking growling chuckle resounded. Mikoto just kept staring forwards, examining the armor the beast wore for a few moments before it lowered its head.

"If there were a thousand humans with guts like you our ranks would be better off." He continued chuckling even as he stepped past Mikoto, and the Red King watched him go. He turned back only to find a woman standing before him, admiration coming off in waves. In great contrast to the wolfman before her she wore a blue gown of a fabric Mikoto didn't recognize, and held a staff in one hand. She was grinning, and holding out her other hand.

"That was impressive. Gaelric's a tough nut to crack even if you know him personally. Tia Gallina, Champion of Arathi Basin." Mikoto just stared. Hard, amber eyes with latent heat that made people crumble just by looking at them too long. Tia felt it, and she slowly lowered her hand, the friendly grin on her face fading to one of discomfort and a desire to escape the person she was faced with. But Mikoto had only stared because he was surprised at the approach; he didn't expect anyone to deliberately come up to him after talking with a wolfman of all things. And the woman looked almost exactly like Awashima-the similarity was uncanny except for the eyes, which held none of the cold heartedness the Blue King's lieutenant held. He gave his head a slight shake and stood up straighter before she could turn tail and run.

"Mikoto Suoh." She felt an involuntary shiver down her spine at his voice. Something about it just gave her a feeling of unease, and yet, safety. He doubted she'd recognize his name. And he was right; no recognition in her eyes. But her smile returned and she held her hand out once again, and Mikoto reached and gently gripped it.

"That's a funny name, Mee-koh-to." He didn't bother to correct the pronunciation. Obviously, he wasn't in japan anymore. And he was pretty sure he wasn't speaking Japanese up till now. Or had he been? He couldn't tell. She continued. "No titles? I'd think if you could stare down a worgen you'd be recognizable." Ah, but none of his titles would have any relevance here, unless he spoke of his foremost, the Red King. And for some reason, he didn't feel the desire to stake claim to that particular title just yet.

"None. I'm not from around here." They released each other's hands, the woman obviously uncomfortable by the ongoing contact.

"Well if you're not from around here you might need a hand. My mother's shop is just down the road, the Gallina Winery, if you need directions or something." She gave a slight nod of her head and turned to leave, but couldn't. Mikoto was holding her by the wrist. Not roughly, but enough to keep her from getting away. And it was unsettling, the look he had in his eye. "W-What?" She half expected her arm to be torn off and be ravished in the middle of the street, but not the quiet question he posed.

"Did you say winery?" Gulping, she nodded. "Take me there. I could use a drink."


	2. Chapter 2

Munakata Reisi, the Fourth and Blue King, had a killer headache. How much had he drunk in the past three days? No, how much _hadn't_ he drunk? His entire store of drink was trashed, bottles strewn everywhere. But he wasn't there, like he expected, under the couch with a bottle of gin clutched to his heart. Instead, he was face down on the ground, and feeling positively wretched. Had he managed to get out of his house somehow? He thought he'd locked the door.

Pushing up, Munakata found himself looking at cobblestone. Wobbling, he stood up straight. A wall was to his left, and he made good use of it, pressing his forehead against the cold stone. His vision was skewed for some reason-_ah,_ he thought, taking them off. The left lense was cracked. Sighing, he tossed them away carelessly. It wasn't like he _needed_ them, only that they aided the mask he held up in front of everyone. That, and he had a spare pair. Or six.

He'd been drinking himself under the floorboards after killing Mikoto. Every time he touched his sword he felt the sensation of that one quick stab. His fingers trembled, and he pushed his new pair of glasses up; he had to hold the mask. Deep breath, exhale, and everything was fine. Examining the area around he found buildings of ancient construction, all of stone and wood. An alleyway. Had he gone to some rural town in a drunken stupor or something? He took a step and felt his skull shiver-the hangover was _not_ going to be pleasant.

Somehow his sword was strapped to his belt, and but he wasn't in full uniform, though all of his clothes still related to Scepter 4. Blue slacks, a white shirt with 'Scepter 4' on the front, and his ever present jacket. So why did he have the sword if he was _clearly_ in a casual situation?

His mouth fell open at the sight of a blue haired and purple skinned beauty walking not three feet in front of him when he reached the exit of the alleyway. All around there were people, but not all of them human, and all of them were dressed like medieval soldiers or buxom sorcerers or sorceresses. He could feel his face drooping and immediately straightened up, pushing up his glasses. Deep breath, exhale, the mask was totally in place. A light smirk rested on his lips, as it was part of the illusion. But inside he could feel everything tumbling down, walls cracking and barriers bashed; everywhere he looked he saw people with swords. At his side, he felt his sword. And it was sword he'd stabbed straight through Mikoto.

He walked with head high, no matter how terrible he felt, and let his eyes wander. He couldn't lose composure in this situation, it didn't matter how unearthly some of the people around him were-_jesus, was that an elephant?_ No, Munakata, that was a mammoth. As he stared at the great beast he heard someone shouting to his right and glanced over.

"What on earth is that?!" Little old man, pointing upwards and forwards with gnarled fingers. Munakata followed his gaze and felt faint at the sight of a very familiar Sword of Damocles.

_Mikoto. _

_No, another Red King?_

_No. _

Munakata immediately started towards the swords location, but it disappeared out of the sky before he got too far. Couldn't pinpoint. It was odd, though; the sword had been in perfect condition. No red lightning, no crumbling fragments, and most of all it wasn't _falling._ Whoever's sword that was, it was someone alive and kicking. But no matter how long Munakata flickered his aura while walking around, no one flickered theirs back. If Mikoto could see the aura, he'd reveal himself; he wasn't the type to hide. So, the bearer of the Red Sword must be somewhere else.

And what if it wasn't Mikoto? That thought hit Munakata harder than anything else, so hard he nearly stumbled. Such a tease, seeing Mikoto's sword. What if it was just a trick of his mind? The people shouting a hallucination? What if this was just a dream? No, too vivid, couldn't be a dream-a hallucination was definitely still possible, though. Maybe he'd gotten something _else_ in his veins while drunk.

The mask was getting harder to keep on the up and up. Every step Munakata took he was near falling over from guilt, despair. He was _this_ close to releasing his full aura and just flashing his Sword for everyone to see when he came nose to chest with a very large person. Stepping back, he found himself looking up at a man with glowing blue eyes blue skin and…tentacles. He looked rather irritable.

"Apologies." Munakata said, pushing his glasses up and forcing a small smile. "Please excuse my absentmindedness; I was not looking where I was going."

"You look like you could use a drink." The mask cracked and Munakata's smile becoming a tightlipped frown.

"You have no idea." His words weren't listened to. Instead, the large man pointed down the street.

"Gallina winery is a block in that direction. Go and get drunk."

That sounded rather appealing.


	3. Chapter 3

Mikoto's cigarette fell out of his mouth.

Munakata's fingers trembled.

There were a million words to describe the moment Mikoto and Munakata saw each other. The most prominent would probably be heartfelt. Tia, however, knew nothing of either of these people, and just stared awkwardly at the two speechless men. She wanted to say something, but didn't. Something told her she just…shouldn't. Munakata spoke first.

"Mikoto."

"Munakata." The Red King, for one of the few times in his life, was having trouble keeping himself aloof.

"You're alive."

"Yeah."

"How?" He scratched his head, looking away from Munakata.

"I don't know." He turned back. "Do _you_ know where we are?" The Blue King shrugged, and Mikoto sighed, pulling his pack of cigarettes back out. "Some place called Stormwind. They've got a King, but he isn't…" he gestured between the two of them, and the gesture was understood. But Munakata was still a bit unsettled. He stepped forward and, before Mikoto could put the cigarette in his mouth, reached out and pressed a palm to the Red King's chest.

"Right here."

"No scar, no nothing."

"How was the afterlife?"

"No idea. I woke up here just a few minutes after-"

"It's been three days."

"Oh." The hand on his chest trembled, and Mikoto sighed, pulling it off of his chest. "I'm alive. You did what you had to do, and I did what I had to do."

"_I_ could have done it for you!" Munakata spat. "If you had just let me killed him I wouldn't have had to shove a blade through your chest!" Tia muttered a quiet 'huh?' eyes flickering between the two men at the mentioning of a wound that would surely kill someone, but said nothing, too intrigued by the conversation to speak.

"So what?" Mikoto shrugged, looking away.

_"_So_ what?_" Munakata growled, poking the red-haired man in the chest for emphasis. Mikoto frowned and stepped forward, grabbing Munakata by the shirt and bringing their faces within inches of each other's. The volume of conversation dropped to a barely audible growl.

"So you killed me. I know it mattered to you, and I…" He hesitated. "I regret making you kill me." His face hardened, ignoring the 'was that empathy just now' face Munakata had. "But I'm _alive._ So, forget about it." He let go of Munakata's shirt and stepped back, finally putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with his thumb. He hissed smoke. "Now the only regret I have is leaving Anna."

"Your bartender will take care of her." Munakata said softly, sighing. "Speaking of bartenders, I could use a drink. Not for the purpose of drowning myself under the…" he trailed off, looking over at Tia. He blinked. "Seri?"

"Eh?"

"She's Tia. Daughter of the winery owner." Mikoto supplied, taking another drag. "I asked her as well, but apparently she's either her twin sister or a coincidence. Not Seri."

"Unsettling." Tia cringed at the tone of his voice, but he didn't bother to notice. "As I was saying-"

"Yeah. What was that about drowning yourself under the table?" Munakata's fingers flicked. He hadn't meant to say that _outloud._

"It's been three days of drinking." Their eyes met. "A man can feel sorrow, Mikoto."

"I would have blown up a few buildings, not squeeze into a bottle of booze."

"Yes, because you do that _daily,_ don't you?"

"Don't scold my habits, Blue."

"I'm not scolding. I'm simply pointing out how you _spend _your time, and how inadequate you use your _funds_." The argument became more and more convoluted. Tia couldn't comprehend half the things they talked about; something about a horse and Munakata's lieutenant? Who looked just like her?


End file.
